


His Idleness—a Tune

by middlemarch



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Romance, Uniform Kink, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Her eyes had gone black as the leather boots.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Lady's Fancy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512342) by [RedFlagsAndDiamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFlagsAndDiamonds/pseuds/RedFlagsAndDiamonds). 



He’d wished he could write poetry instead of mediocre sermons, or that he could sing even better than Dr. Hale, draw more skillfully than Mlle. Beaufort, but he had none of those talents and so he must rely on his hands and his gaze to tell Emma how she shocked and delighted him when she first made love to him. They had coupled before and she had welcomed him, less shy than he might have expected but still primarily receptive, always waiting for him to show she might stroke here, touch him there, waiting to hear his sigh, his moan, her own name broken and mingled with sweetheart or darling when he spent. But the arrival of his new uniform had brought them swiftly to the sitting room floor, brought Emma to where she had chosen to be, astride him, her hands on his chest, his hands wherever he could reach—her slender waist, the full underside of her breast, the softness of her belly where it met his. She had finally bared herself to him entirely and she was very beautiful, so finely made and so graceful, he had not been able to keep from laughing with joy until she moved again, seeking her own pleasure and in so doing had given him one he’d never known. Her thighs were sleek and she had found a rhythm she liked right away; it made up for the dance they’d never shared at her parents’ ball, to see her moving intently, to feel his cock hard within her and then not, without any control over when her warm, blissful flesh would take him again. He encouraged her though she didn’t seem to need it, asking for more and being given it with a taste of her mouth against his when she deigned to lean forward and lick his parted lips. He was not sure he could keep from spilling too soon, her focus on her own desire and how she might use him to achieve it the most exquisite aphrodisiac. She seemed to remember him at the last, when he cried _I love you, love you_ and answered him, _Yes, Henry, oh yes_ , sinking down upon him and shuddering with her own climax and then he joined her with a wordless shout, the boots’ heels loud, hardly muffled by the thin Turkey rug. Feeling her rest her head upon his chest, her fingers absently stroking his ribs, the scattered damp curls, filled him with an vast tenderness; the fey gleam in her blue eyes, the flush on her cheeks and her deep dimples when she raised her head and said _Again_ , not a question but a demand, engendered a vast amazement he could not have contained. He offered no suggestions the second time, content to let her command him, though he wore the officer’s coat, the Union officer’s boots.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Henry's POV on "A Lady's Fancy," here for your delectation. The title is another line from the same poem as "His Feet are shod with Gauze."


End file.
